


Bonds

by fadedlullabyes



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:35:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedlullabyes/pseuds/fadedlullabyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senju Hashirama meets a boy he suspects of being an Uchiha at the river. As they meet their bond grows, but will happen to them in the future?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The forest was still as the river ran silently over rocks as fish jumped here and there. A flock of birds vacated the canopy, creating small dots in the blue sky where a few fluffy white clouds hung. They weren’t threatening as they floated along lazily, just drifting as though they had nowhere to go. The birds were silent in their flight, they didn’t communicate with one another as they flew towards the distance as though there was a predator hunting them. Soon they were gone, disappearing in the light blue sky. 

Dark eyes watched the flock until they were gone and even a few moments after that. For as long as Hashirama Senju could remember, he had never been that free. He was shackled by his clan and the blood feud between his clan and another, the Uchiha. Hashirama didn’t know what started the war that had been raging for years, nor did any other member of his clan. It was an answer that eluded them all and when he spoke of ending it, he was ignored. Hashirama had learned at the tender age of four to keep his mouth shut or else his father would punish him. 

It wasn’t fair to put children on the front line, their childhood was being ripped from them. From the time he could walk, Hashirama was taught how to control his chakra and how to throw a kunai and make it count. It was gruelling process and one that certainly wasn’t for a child to learn. His experience had given birth a dream of building a village where children were trained in the ninja arts, but they weren’t forced to fight on the frontlines. They would grow into be ninjas slowly and wouldn’t be forced to kill others at the age of five. Hashirama kept the dream close to his heart, cradling and nurturing it with every foul experience he had on the battlefield. 

The stone in his hand was cool, having sat in the shade of the trees until now. It was noon and Hashirama had precious little time to himself, his family wanting him to train every moment of the day so he could hone his skills further. He was aware of his talent and Hashirama resented it. The ninja arts came so easily to him that it was uncanny. He had mastered many of his clans jutsu’s and those that were common but harder to master. His chakra control was better than his brother, Tobirama’s, who even though younger, trained more often than Hashirama. He clutched the stone tighter in his hand as he thought of his younger brother. 

It wouldn’t do any good to think of his cranky brother, perched in a tree. Tobirama had the ability to irritate Hashirama in the best of moods, bringing him down immediately. It was one of the reasons he had come to the river, so he could escape the stifling threat of death that surrounded his clan. So far, no one had discovered where he had run off to and hopefully it would stay that way. This was Hashirama’s sanctuary and he would do anything to protect it, even if it meant fighting his brother. 

Movement on the other side caught his attention, drawing it like a moth to the flame. His stance on the tree limb changed, if this was an enemy he had to be alert because there was always the chance that the other knew he was there. The person that stepped out from the bushes had Hashirama blinking in surprise. It was a boy around his age who was glancing in all directions. Cautiously he approached the river and picked up a rock. 

Hashirama watched as the stone was thrown, the stone skirting over the river’s surface until it sunk. The boy frowned, obviously not pleased with the results of his throw. Hashirama watched him intently for several minutes, he could sense the boy’s chakra and knew he was a ninja. It didn’t stop his curiosity though as he watched another rock attempt to skip across the river and then another. It was amusing to watch annoyance flicker over the boy’s face as he failed in his skipping. A long time had passed since Hashirama had entertainment outside of his clan. It was rare for a member of the Senju to interact with someone outside of their clan unless there was a marriage contract involved with another clan. 

A snort left Hashirama, he was ten and already his father was setting up a marriage. At fourteen he would be expected to marry the girl even though he didn’t know her. He hated the idea of arranged marriage, to be forced to marry some stranger he didn’t know before he even experienced half of his life, considering he didn’t die in this pathetic and senseless war. He was only ten and wise beyond his years. His innocence was gone by the time he was six and Hashirama already felt as though he lived through his life. He could only hope the feeling didn’t follow him into adulthood. 

Jumping down from the branch, Hashirama decided to make his presence known to the other. A cocky smile passed over his lips as the other child’s face screwed up into a grimace. Again the other threw the rock, his arm sliding from his body with ease. He had to have been used to throwing shuriken with the way he was throwing. From his perch in the tree, Hashirama hadn’t been able to see this. But it didn’t matter to him, this kid could have been an Uchiha and he wouldn’t have given a damn. 

“So, who are you?” The boy asked, cocking his head to the side after failing to make the rock reach the other side. Hashirama wasn’t sure if the guy was restraining himself or not. It seemed as though not reaching the other side of the river was irritating him, but if he was used to throwing shuriken, then it should have been easy. This also could have a game. 

“I’m Hashirama.” He said, holding his hand out but he was given a glare. 

“I asked who you are, that is only a first name.” The other’s gaze became serious, eyes narrowing as though he were looking at an enemy. 

“I can’t really tell you my surname,” Hashirama said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he smiled. He tried to make himself seem as nonthreatening as possible. The air between them was already tense and Hashirama didn’t want to set off an explosion. 

“Heh, Hashirama, huh? Well, watch me make this one.” The boy’s arm flung from his side, the rock skipping across the water at a high speed. It sank before it even reached the other side of the river bed. 

“You stood right behind me, bastard! Just to distract me! I can’t even pee if someone’s hovering over me!” The boy yelled, pointing at Hashirama with an angry face. 

Immediately, Hashirama dropped to his butt and gathered his knees to his chest. He mumbled an apology as he took on the illusion of being upset because he had been yelled at. It was the only way he could be himself and not feel stifled. Even though this was an act, he felt free in front of this stranger. Like he could just be a kid and act as silly as he wished. It had been a long time since Hashirama had felt like this. 

“Hey, that wasn’t really an excuse so you don’t have to get that depressed.” The stranger said, his hands moving in front of his body and waving about. 

“I wasn’t sure of it, but now I am. You have annoying subjective symptoms,” Hashirama said laughing. He doubled over onto ground, landing on his hands as his body shook with laughter. It wasn’t forced for the first time in a long time. 

“I can’t make out if you’re a good guy or a bad one, you jerk.” 

“Well, at least you understand I’m better at skipping rocks.” Hashirama exclaimed, jumping to his feet and dancing. It was the first time he wasn’t engaged in a dance of death for months and so he indulged himself. He waved his arms around as he moved his feet on the ground. 

“Ugh, next time I’ll use you, bastard, as the skipping stone! Even if you don’t get that far, because I’m sure you’d sink right off the first skip!” The boy yelled, once again pointing at Hashirama. 

Once again, Hashirama took the opportunity and fell back to his original position on the ground, clutching his knees. He sat there for a few moments, dragging it out as much as possible. Hashirama knew that once he got home, it would be a long before he could act this silly. All he wanted was to be a kid. 

“I’m sorry, I can only hope I can make it to the other side. You can go ahead and throw me, I won’t mind. I just hope I don’t disappoint you.” He said softly, eyes downcast. 

“You’re so annoying! I really can’t stand you..so just go away!” The other spat, pointing to the woods with his hand and waving angrily. 

Hashirama stood, his posture defeated as he walked slowly towards the woods. He honestly didn’t want to leave and head back home to the Senju clan. The atmosphere was depressing there and heavy, weighing down on his young shoulders and pushing them down to the ground. 

“Wait! Wait! Hey, I didn’t really mean that! Don’t go!” Hashirama heard before he felt a hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping him from moving any further. He turned around and pinned the boy with a bored expression. 

“Do you want me to stay or go? Make up your mind please.” Hashirama requested before his eyes spotted something floating slowly in the river. It bobbed up and down with the flow, much like a dead body. 

With the realization of what it was, Hashirama shed his mask and became the shinobi he was trained to be. He shook the hand off his shoulder and jumped onto the water, making his way to the body. It wasn’t rotting yet, so that meant it was a fresh kill. He almost missed the question the other boy asked about him being a shinobi as he studied the corpse. His family’s symbol was etched onto the armor, his expression becoming serious. He would have to return to his home now with this recent death. It was a cousin of his who had barely reached eighteen. Hashirama sighed before he jumped back to his side of the river in one jump. He turned back to the other child, watching him with interest as he spoke.

“I’m Madara. And not revealing your surname to a stranger is the number one rule of shinobi.” Madara said, with a wry smile. 

“I thought you were a shinobi as well, the way you skipped that rock was just like throwing a shuriken.” Hashirama answered with his own smile before he took off for home. The trip was short, being a shinobi had it perks when it came to travel since chakra could be used to cover long distances in a short time. His mind wandered to Madara and how normal it had been to interact with another child who was a shinobi. It was obvious he had been looking for a distraction from his life like Hashirama had been. 

Before long, Hashirama was on the outskirts of the walls that held his clan. They were tall and fortified with traps and shinobi. There was a regular patrol to make sure the Uchiha wouldn’t infiltrate their home. He could hear the shuffling of dirt and was curious as to what was going on. Hashirama stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the post that bore a name he was more than familiar with. 

“Kawarama...” He whispered. Itama was crying beside him, his hands rubbing at the tears that fell from his eyes. Hashirama was enraged, Kawarama was only seven. He hadn’t had time to skip rocks to just be a child and that only burned his dream brighter. Hashirama wouldn’t allow such cruelty to happen to children who should have been playing instead of going out to fight. 

“Shinobi don’t whine, Itama.” His father said sternly, not even glancing at his youngest son. “You should be grateful we were able to recover the corpse, or what was left of it. It wasn’t only the Hagoromo clan, but the Uchiha as well. They’re becoming more ruthless.”

Hashirama’s fists clenched at his side, he couldn’t believe what his father was saying. Itama was only seven! Seven! He was a child who didn’t know the joys of the outside world because he was busy fighting a war that no one knew how it had started. It fueled Hashirama’s temper, guiding it and nurturing until he spoke. 

“He was just a child!” He grit out between his teeth, the bones grinding together. “How long will this war go on?”

“Until our enemies are decimated. This is not an easy road to peace and it will be be full of pain. It is not a path for the weak.” 

“And you’re willing to sacrifice the lives of children for this peace? You’ve been chasing after it for generations! Must we die for this fabled dream that will never occur!” Hashirama said lowly, his body tense as he spoke his mind. This was part of his child personality, his ability to speak his mind on what he perceived as the truth. He wouldn’t sugarcoat his words like the adults and lie. No, he was still a child and he would act like it in such an occasion. 

He had never seen the fist coming, only when pain flared across his cheek was he aware of what had happened. Tobirama caught him as he fell, supporting Hashirama as he watched his father’s enraged face. He was beyond pissed and the aura that rolled off him was threatening. 

“I will not allow you to speak of Kawarama like that! He died as an honorable shinobi in the line of battle! He was not a child!” 

Tobirama lowered Hashirama to the ground. Blood dribbled down his chin as he watched his father stalk away, his large hands clenched at his sides, the veins popping on the back. It was obvious that his father did not believe they should have a childhood, that they were nothing but a tool to be used for this peace that was out of reach. His brothers spoke to him, lecturing on opposing their father as Hashirama glared as he raged on, speaking of adults sending children to their deaths. Their father stopped for moment and spoke. 

“We are doing the same to the Uchiha clan. It is respect for your enemy to do such a thing. And infant with a weapon is an enemy as well. Loving your children means turning them into worthy shinobi. It is why I strive to make you stronger, Hashirama, Tobirama, Itama.”

The words sent Hashirama to his feet. He couldn’t grasp his father’s concept. It was only a circle of hate that wouldn’t stop at all. It would continue for generations until something was done about it and it made Hashirama’s stomach twist savagely. This wasn’t the future he wanted for him and his brothers or his clan. The only future he could see was one soaked in blood in an never ending cycle of hate. 

“But we don’t even know where it started! You only kill and be killed without knowing how this whole this whole thing started! How is that being a worthy shinobi? To just die!” Hashirama yelled, eyes wild as he continued his rant. “You can’t even say your surname because it’s too dangerous! How shinobi conduct themselves in this world is wrong!” 

Hashirama watched as his father stopped and turned. His fist was raised once again as he came at his son. Hashirama’s expression was hardened and determined as he stood his ground as his father spoke, “it is people like you that are called kids!”

Hashirama waited for the fist to connect to his face, but it never came. Tobirama was standing in front of him, arms spread wide to prevent their father from striking him. His younger brother had a good head about him and knew how to diffuse any situation when it dealt with Hashirama’s temper crashing with his fathers. Tobirama made an excuse for Hashirama, claiming that he was upset about today’s event and that he wasn’t thinking clearly. He didn’t buy it of course, but Tobirama knew something needed to be said to diffuse the situation. Hashirama was told to calm down as he glared. He still wasn’t satisfied with this life or the grief and turmoil it brought to his family. It was tearing at their bond, trying to sever it until the Senju clan was too divided to protect each other. This war was a poison that spread far and wide, it’s tendrils reaching every heart it came into contact with. Suddenly, Hashirama felt older than his ten years and the burden on his shoulder only became heavier. 

~*~

 

He was sitting by the river bed, his knees pulled to his chest as he watched the current of the river. Hashirama was entranced by it, how it flowed so easily without a care in the world, ignorant of the war that was plaguing the world. He wished he were the river, to run wild and not to have to worry about engaging the enemy every time he stepped outside of his clan’s home. The river was timeless and had probably seen more bloodshed he had, but it had the option of ignoring what was happening around it. 

Itama was dead, gone from this world in a blink of an eye. He had been cornered by Uchiha and killed against a rock. By the time Hashirama had arrived, he was already dead. Another family member had been taken from him, killed before he was even nine. It left a bad taste in Hashirama’s mouth. Itama’s childhood had been taken from him because of this violence, even the average lifespan of a shinobi was dwindling. This stupid war was going too far with the extent of what the shinobi were willing to kill. They were ruthless and killing machines, what they were trained to be. Hashirama vowed that he would reach his goal, he would have his village and missions would be assigned accordingly. 

Hashirama shook his head, trying to clear it. He hadn’t been to the river in a few days because of his brother’s funeral. It had been hard grieving for Itama, to believe that he was gone from this world. It had sparked another argument between him and his father. This one more violent because of the subject. Butsuma had praised his son’s death, stating that he had died a worthy shinobi and honored their clan by not running from his fate. 

But Hashirama knew better, he knew Itama better than anyone else. His brother had more than likely been scared being surrounded by Uchiha, knowing that there was no way out since they were all adults. Hashirama had explored the scene of his brother’s death, had noticed the footprints that were embedded into the earth. His brother hadn’t been killed, he’d been massacred. There was no way Itama had the ability to fight back against five grown Uchiha. He had more than likely been too busy to think about anything but his death before he was taken from this world. Hashirama’s fist tightened in his clothes. If this war didn’t stop, there would be no future because every child would be dead and there would be no way to produce new clan members. 

The adults were too caught up in their feud to notice what was happening around them, that they were slowly losing their families one by one. Even if the Senju and Uchiha clan were large, they were still dwindling in numbers with the bodies that piled up almost every day. Soon, the only people left in the clans would be the elderly. 

Children were the ones who were suffering from this war, being trained from birth to be a killer. They were taken from their mothers once they could eat more solidified foods and put with a shinobi to be raised. When they learned to walk, they were trained in the arts of their clan. It was not a life for a child so young, but the adults were set in their ways and continued with the tradition. It was awful and Hashirama felt disgusted by what they were doing. But there was nothing he could do, he was only a child this moment and no one would listen to him. 

He promised his brother’s memory that he would do all within his power to create a future where children weren’t massacred and would have the childhood they deserved. Hashirama sat for a few more by himself, allowing the breeze to ruffle his short hair as he stared out into the sparkling blue water. He could feel Madara behind him, the other’s chakra giving him away. Hashirama suspected him of being an Uchiha. It wouldn’t be far fetched, but it was nice to interact with a member from the clan without clashing kunai together. 

“Hey...it’s been a few days.” Madara said, standing behind Hashirama. “Hashirama, you can’t be depressed already, I haven’t done anything.”

Even though they had met that one time, Madara knew Hashirama well. Perhaps they were more alike than Hashirama had guessed and he could see past the mask that he had put on the first time they had met by the river. It was nice to speak to someone outside of his clan, even if they were a potential enemy. Hashirama hoped that as they met, they would cross the line from enemy to friend and that they could convince their clans to follow their lead. Of course Senju were hard headed as the Uchiha were hotheaded. It was a clash that did not mix well and Hashirama hoped that they could breach the enmity between them. 

“It’s nothing,” Hashirama answered, still staring out at the river. He didn’t want to voice his grief to Madara, to have to tell a somewhat stranger that his little brother was dead. 

“It’s more than nothing, Hashirama. I can see how tense you are.” Madara said, frowning even though Hashirama couldn’t see him. “Don’t drag it out, just tell me. I’ll listen to you, whatever it is.” 

“My younger brother and cousin are dead! Both just children and they didn’t even live a full life! It was taken from them by this cruel world of shinobi! Why must we be robbed of an opportunity to grow?” Hashirama growled, turning around and facing Madara. Angry tears stained his cheeks as he looked up to the other boy. “I come here to the river because it soothes me to not think like it does. I feel as though the water can carry these feelings away. Do you have siblings?

Madara was silent for a moment, as though he were contemplating what he was going to say before he finally spoke. “We are shinobi, whether we embrace that or not. They were as well, there are no such as children in our world. Only those that kill and are killed, that is the only way we count in this vicious cycle of blood. Three of my brothers died knowing that this was the only life they had and still they faced death as though it were an old friend. They were taught to think like that, that it was honorable to die as a shinobi on a mission.” 

He was silent for a few more moments, holding a rock in his hand and bouncing it gently before Hashirama spoke again. “I’ve thought long and hard about how to not die. It’s been on my mind for a long time. You have to show your enemy everything, not hide anything that you are thinking and eventually become allies with them.” 

“How would that work, Hashirama? We are shinobi and are taught deception from birth. You would never know what the other was truly thinking and feeling. It is suicide to think such a thing is possible. But despite that...I still think there’s a way. I hope that there is anyway.” Madara said, his tone a bit wistful as he skipped another stone. His eyes were still guarded, though they held hope in the dark depths. 

Hashirama watched as the stone skipped to the other side, finally reaching the destination Madara had wanted. They were silent for a bit, just watching the water flow as hope built between them. Hashirama had no doubts now that Madara was an Uchiha and he was sure the boy knew he was a Senju. 

“This time, it looks like there is hope.” Madara’s voice soothed Hashirama better than Tobirama ever could. 

~*~

They were sitting on the cliff again, looking over the forest that stretched far into the distance. Hashirama could easily see a village nestled among the trees, surrounded by high walls and flourishing off the land. Children would laugh in the streets and play, not go out on dangerous missions that would eventually end their lives. It was visible to Hashirama, almost as if it was there already. He could see the outline of buildings and children playing in the streets already, almost as if they were really there. 

“You can really see the forest from here!” Hashirama mused, excitement bursting in his tone. A grin split his lips as he turned his head to Madara. 

“Yeah, you can. But I’m confident that I can see further than you, wanna challenge me?” Madara’s voice was proud, boasting of his ability. It was comforting to Hashirama for some reason, it meant that they were good friends if he was willing to speak about it. For the first time since they began to form this friendship, Madara wasn’t conscious of his words. It spoke a lot to Hashirama and he took it as the other child trusting him. Trust was something that was hard earned between shinobi, but here they were building it to the point where they could almost share. 

“You’re really proud of your eyes aren’t you?” Hashirama asked, his expression schooled to hide he felt at Madara speaking so freely. It was almost like there wasn’t a war between their clans and they could be friends without the tight restraints they had to keep on themselves. It would be the stepping stone for the other members of their clans to form a friendship as well. Hashirama knew it would take more than a day to get their families on peaceful terms, but he was nothing if determined. The blood of his fellow kin was precious enough and he would do anything to see it stop flowing. 

“I should be proud since I have a sha...” But Madara stopped himself. It saddened Hashirama that they couldn’t be themselves with the threat of their clans having over them. There were ways to gain secrets after all and they couldn’t be kept if one knew them. Hashirama would rather keep his suspicions instead of learning the truth. 

“What’s wrong?” Hashirama asked, despite wanting to keep the question locked up in his head. It would be weird if he didn’t ask it and Madara would more than likely call it a day and Hashirama didn’t want that at all. He wanted to bask in the attention of his friend. 

“Really...in the end I’m no one and I’m not that much.” Madara’s voice was soft, different from the normal boasting it normally was. It put Hashirama on edge as he studied his friends profile. Madara had been close to admitting he was of the Uchiha clan, but had stopped for fear of what could potentially happen to him. Hashirama couldn’t blame him, not with how their world was. 

“If I were that good, my brothers would still be alive. I wasn’t able to protect them, so in the end, I’m not much.” 

Hashirama hated how defeated Madara sounded, as though he were just giving up. It didn’t suit the normally boisterous attitude of the other. “Don’t you have a brother left?” 

“I have a younger one. No matter what, I’ll protect him.” Madara’s voice was filled with a hard edge that backed his promise. Hashirama knew that the Uchiha clan was connected closely with love and that it fueled them. He was positive without a doubt that Madara would keep this promise. 

“Then let’s build our settlement here! The view’s great and children won’t have to kill each other!” Hashirama’s voice rang out over the cliff, scaring up some birds making them take to the skies. His arms were raised high as he smiled like a madman. He gestured enthusiastically to the forest. “Just think, Madara! We could have a school where children are taught and nurtured to grow into strong shinobi! Mission will be assigned by strength and skill by senior members! Children won’t be sent to the battlefield to die! Just think of it!” 

“Heh,” Madara huffed, turning to look at Hashirama with a wry smile. “You have the most idiotic ideas.” 

“What are your thoughts then?” Hashirama asked, sticking his tongue out to Madara. It was a normal reaction and didn’t bother Madara all that much in the end. They were friends and as such, gestures like that were tolerable. 

“When we build our settlement, I can watch my little brother from here and make sure he’s safe.” Madara smiled at Hashirama and he knew it was a true one. They were friends, connected by a bond that they had created despite being Senju and Uchiha. Hopefully if his surname ever came out, Madara would be able to look past it and they would be able to keep the bond. It was a fear that resided inside Hashirama that he would be rejected. He tried to ignore it as he kept the smile plastered on his face for his friend’s sake. Hashirama wanted nothing more than the unification of their clans and would do everything within his power to achieve his dream. 

Feeling lighter than he had in months, he looked to the sky and grinned. If he could achieve this peace he wanted so badly, then children would stop dying and be able to live out their lives. It may have cost his own childhood, but that didn’t matter to Hashirama. Thousands of children after him would be able to play and enjoy life before they grew into shinobi capable of killing. It was a dream he held close to his heart and he hoped to achieve it with Madara.


	2. How We Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara and Hashirama grow into young men. Can they heal their bond?

Hashirama had known something was up as soon as he saw his brother at the edge of the forest. Tobirama’s steely gaze wasn’t kind nor did it give any sort of hint as to what was going on. His brother had always been stern and serious, hardly enjoying in life. They were young and had to live the life of an adult, but Hashirama had hoped that Tobirama would either tire of being so serious or at least enjoy a joke or two. 

This was the part he had been waiting for for some time, someone finally catching onto his routine. And from the look on Tobirama’s face, he knew he’d been caught. Hashirama never betrayed his thoughts as he was led to their home. He wouldn’t show anything until he knew what his father thought he knew. Hashirama was playing a dangerous game with the Uchiha boy he had befriended, his own clan would either kill him or set a trap for Madara. The whole way to his home, Hashirama began to plan several scenarios in his head in case Madara would be in danger. He knew his father, Butsuma, wouldn’t allow an Uchiha to slip through his fingers, especially one as skilled as Madara. 

The banners of his clan waved in the summer breeze, flapping and proudly portraying the symbol of the Senju as though they were a great people. Hashirama wasn’t proud of his clan and what they stood for, they didn’t understand a thing about the lives the children were living now. They were scared to think of their futures, about having their own family in case something was to happen to them and they were killed. While the Senju took care of their own, there were times that they shunned some family members because a brother or husband didn’t fight. 

It was wrong and Hashirama wished to change the way things were. With Madara’s help, he knew he could unite the clans and have the peace they both wanted. Their reasons may have been slightly different, but the common goal was all that mattered to them. Hashirama didn’t bother speaking to Tobirama, he knew it was useless since he knew his brother followed their father’s command right down to the last order. It was a trait Tobirama had since they were younger, to follow the rules no matter what they were. Hashirama had tried desperate to break his brother of the habit, but there was nothing he could about it. He didn’t understand Tobirama and the other boy didn’t understand him, but they both knew they could count on the other if they were in trouble. 

The compound was oddly silent, as if it knew Hashirama had been dallying with a member of the Uchiha clan. He pushed such thoughts aside, he wasn’t one to believe in ghosts and that the dead still roamed the earth seeking the revenge for their murders. They had died, honorably, in combat like a warrior should. Or at least, that’s what Hashirama had always been told. He didn’t hold much in the old sayings, believing them to be old wives tales meant to scare children before the world had changed. Hashirama was more like his father than he knew when it came to such things. 

Butsuma Senju was waiting on his sons, sitting on the floor with his arms crossed as he watched his sons warily. Hashirama noticed his father was following his movements more than Tobirama’s. He was sizing him up and looking for any signs of deception. Hashirama would be walking a fine line with his father and he was grateful that he was a good actor. There was no doubt in his mind that Butsuma knew about Madara with the suspicious gaze he was shooting Hashirama when he thought he wasn’t looking. This would be the hardest thing Hashirama had to do, lying to his father just to protect an Uchiha, but it was something that needed to be done. 

“I’m aware that you’re hanging around with a boy, Hashirama.” Butsuma said, arms crossed as he watched his son for any giveaway that he was aware of what was going on.

“How did you find out?” Hashirama asked, his face schooled to show that he was irritated that his father had found out. It didn’t take much acting to show that he was beyond angry and that he didn’t want to be here having this conversation. 

“You were spending too much time outside of the clan home and Father had me tail you. You’re awful at sensing others.” Tobirama answered before Butsuma could. Hashirama sent him a withering glare before returning his eyes to his father. 

“I have some intel on that young man. He’s from the Uchiha clan and has killed some of our more than capable adult members. There’s no doubt that he’s a prodigy, Hashirama.” Butsuma’s words only confirmed what Hashirama was aware of. He had known Madara was an Uchiha, it wasn’t hard to tell from his facial features and the coloring of his hair and eyes. Only Uchiha had eyes so dark that it felt as though they pierced your soul. 

“Judging from the expression on your face, you both were aware of your clan affiliations?” Butsuma asked, his expression turning dark at the notion. 

“No...I wasn’t aware that he was Uchiha.” Hashirama lied easily through his teeth. “I don’t think he realizes that I’m from the Senju clan.” 

“Then you know what must be done, Hashirama. The clan is not aware of your indiscretion and unless you want to be branded as a traitor, your new mission will be to gather intel from this young man. If he gets suspicious, kill him.” Butsuma’s face held no room for argument as Hashirama shivered. 

The words rang out in his head, circling it as his hands tightened on his knees. He couldn’t kill Madara, he was his best friend and Hashirama wouldn’t betray him like that. Hashirama didn’t know what he could do now, his father had him trapped and his mind wasn’t able to come up with a solution. 

“Are you sure he’s Uchiha?” Hashirama asked, wanting his father to deny that fact so he wouldn’t have to carry out this mission. But his father crushed that hope with his next words. 

“I am positive, Hashirama. He may already be aware that you are a Senju and could be playing dumb to pry information from you. Regardless, you cannot trust him.” Butsuma’s words held no room for argument, but Hashirama couldn’t leave it at this. 

“You’re wrong! He would never do that!” Hashirama defended his friend, they had a deep bond that tied them together and he knew Madara wouldn’t hand him over the Uchiha. 

“And are you a mind reader now? If he has the wool over your eyes, you’re not only putting your family in danger, but the Senju clan as well. Tobirama and I will tail you the next you meet that boy. Is that understood?” Butsuma had finally had his way, Hashirama realized. He would go to the river tomorrow and put Madara in danger because he was careless. He wanted more than this for their friendship, had dreamed of the day that Madara would find out he was a Senju and it certainly wasn’t under these circumstances. 

Hashirama only nodded his head in response to his father. He knew that if he opened his mouth, the words that would spill would not be in his best interest. Standing, he nodded again to Tobirama and left his home to step outside into the bright world. His hand went to the stone that had been in his shirt, his fist closed around it as he took it out and gazed at it. A plan formulated in his head as he gripped the stone tightly and slipped it back into its resting spot. He would save Madara from his family, if it was the last thing he did. 

[center]~*~[/center]

The day had come too soon and Hashirama had a hard time keeping his expression straight as he walked to the river. He only hoped that he could skip the rock to Madara in time to warn him of the trap that his brother and father were setting. Hashirama wasn’t stupid and knew that the two other Senju were planning to ambush Madara and more than likely take his life. Hashirama didn’t like the fact that his friend was in danger and he would do anything to protect Madara from his family. 

Hashirama had his resolve and soon he could hear the running water of the river. It was a slow current today, the water flowing at a lazy pace. He couldn’t enjoy it today, not when danger loomed somewhere in the trees waiting to take his friends life. As he approached the small bank of the river, he could see Madara on the other side, waving. His expression was dour and immediately, Hashirama knew that something was wrong. 

“Hashirama, let’s skip our rocks in greeting from now on.” Madara yelled, the words carried by the slight rustle of the breeze. Hashirama’s own expression was startled at the change in tradition, but agreed to it nonetheless. 

Digging the rock out of his shirt, Hashirama gripped it before skipping it, Madara followed his lead in skipping his own. They skipped over the water, Hashirama held his breath as he watched them skid across the surface of the bright blue surface. It seemed like it took hours for the stones to cross the river, time slowing down to this one moment in time that would change their relationship forever. 

He caught the rock as soon as it skipped up off the water, holding it for a mere second before gazing down at it. Hashirama’s face fell into one of shock as he read the words written on the stone. He glanced up and noticed that Madara’s face mirrored his own. He once again held his breath as he watched his friend. 

“I just remembered, there is something I forgot to do at home.” Madara said, his hand up in the air waving to Hashirama. That was when he knew his friend had gotten the message. Hopefully Madara would be safe now. 

“I see! It’s no problem. I’ll see you later.” Hashirama answered, waving his own hand before turning to leave the area, hoping that his brother and father would leave Madara alone. 

But the rustling of trees and wind caught Hashirama’s attention and he couldn’t help but turn around. Sure enough, Butsuma and Tobirama were on the water, facing Tajima and Izuna Uchiha. This was what he wanted to prevent as he watched Madara stop as well. His secret was out now, his friend knew his true identity. Dread filled his gut as he realized that his dream could easily be shattered now. Hashirama’s chest constricted in pain and he forced himself to watch the people on the river. 

He watched as the two families clashed, their weapons connecting as they charged. Hashirama watched in horror as they fought, the clang of metal filled the air. He didn’t want this, it wasn’t what he had imagined when he started meeting with Madara and their bond formed. This wasn’t the ending he wanted and he didn’t want to see Tobirama’s blood spilled. He may have found his brother staunch and annoying, but he would never wish him harm. 

Hashirama and Madara’s voices rang out as one as they yelled for their family to stop the bloodshed that was about to happen. But their words weren’t heeded, metal continued to clash. Hashirama’s blood boiled as he watched Tobirama continue to engage Izuna Uchiha. His hand tightened around the stone until he threw it, watching it sail through the air to stop the weapon that was aimed at Tobirama. Taking action, he jumped in front of his brother to come face to face with Madara. He didn’t want this, there was so much he wanted to say but he just couldn’t form the words. 

“I will not forgive anyone who tries to harm Izuna.” Madara’s voice was cold, even to Hashirama. It was as though the other had transformed right in front of him, becoming the killer his father had told him about. He didn’t want to be on the end of that harsh expression, but it seemed that fate had other plans. 

For a few long moments they stared at each other, their grim expressions matching. Hashirama watched in surprise as Madara’s face fell, frowning as his fist clenched. “We won’t be able to reach that idiotic dream of ours...after all.” 

“Madara! You?” Hashirama started, but stopped when he saw that Madara had more to say. 

“I had fun while it lasted...Hashirama.” Madara’s tone was resigned to the fact that they would part ways and would no longer be friends. He wanted to protest, to fix everything so that they could go back to the way they were, but Tajima interrupted and began to plot with his son. He could tell by Madara’s tone that he was cutting them slack, giving them both a chance to live another day as he spoke with his family. 

Hashirama watched as Madara turned to leave, bidding him farewell. But he couldn’t bear to see his friend go. “You’re not giving up, are you? You were the same!” 

Madara turned his back to Hashirama, as if he couldn’t look at the Senju member any longer. It broke Hashirama’s heart to see his friend turn his back on their dreams and the future they wanted to create together. It was almost final and Hashirama reached out to grab Madara only to let his hand fall to his side. 

“You’re a Senju, Hashirama, and I wish it had been different. It was Senju who killed my brothers.” Madara’s statement rang true within Hashirama. They had spoken at length about their brothers, but had never mentioned who had done the killing. Hashirama had believed deeply that Madara had known of heritage, but in this moment, he wasn’t sure if the boy was pretending or not. But that didn’t matter, Madara was throwing their bond away as though it didn’t matter to him at all. 

“There will be no use in us spilling our guts from now on. The next we meet will be on the battlefield, Senju Hashirama.” Madara’s words were as cold as ice. “I am Uchiha Madara.”

Hashirama knew what it meant when he saw the blood red of the Sharingan and what it had meant. Madara had severed their bond, threw it away just for the the blood feud that was between their clans. It hurt Hashirama deeply that he was so easily stricken from Madara’s life as though he no longer existed. The Sharingan was all the proof he needed that their bonded didn’t have a place in Madara’s heart and Hashirama’s own shattered. He knew he would be chasing after Madara to repair their bond and go back to the way things were. Hashirama held back the tears as he watched his first friend outside of the Senju clan walk away from him. 

There were many things he wanted to shout at Madara, to tell him that his own brother had been killed by an Uchiha but it hadn’t stopped him from befriending someone of that clan. Hashirama wanted to act every bit the child that he wasn’t, but held back. Instead, grim determination set in and Hashirama vowed he would gain his friend back under any circumstance. 

[center]~*~[/center]

The years had passed in a blur to Hashirama, it seemed they melded together as they rolled by. Madara had been correct when he had said they would meet on the battlefield and nowhere else. It had been hard battling Madara and holding back against his childhood friend. He had given his clan orders not to kill Izuna and Madara, Hashirama didn’t want to deal with the consequences if Madara lost his brother. He was protecting Madara and Izuna as much as possible and so far the members of his clan had given them superficial wounds. But Madara was too blinded by his hatred to see what Hashirama was doing and that he was attempting to reach out. 

As their fights increased, they became legendary. Landscapes would change with just one battle, rearranged within just a few hours. Hashirama was unsure of what to do as word spread of the rivalry between the Uchiha and Senju. Already he was tired of being the clan head, the position was not one he wanted and he had tried to pass it off to Tobirama but his brother would not listen to reason as usual. Even now in the heat of battle, the other Senju brother was not heeding Hashirama’s warning as he fought against Izuna. 

Hashirama watched as Tobirama struck Izuna Uchiha against his orders. His lips turned down in a grim frown as Madara went immediately to his brother. Hashirama went forward as well, making sure to keep his distance from the Uchiha brothers so Madara wouldn’t see him as a thread. When he had Tobirama alone, he would rip his brother a new asshole for the stunt he had pulled. 

“Madara, you can’t win against me!” Hashirama shouted, his voice holding a tinge of desperation. He couldn’t throw his dream away, not even after these years. But there was more to it now, Hashirama realized what he felt for Madara was more than friendship. He had grown to love the Uchiha and while it wasn’t entirely heard of, Hashirama knew his former friend didn’t hold the same sentiment. 

“We can end this! If our clans, the Uchiha and the Senju, join hands the country will stop what they’re doing! They won’t seek out other shinobi clans to take us on. One day the fighting will stop. Please, Madara.” Hashirama was as close to begging as he would come in this moment. His face softened as he studied Madara. Time had been kind to him and he was handsome as he stared intently at Hashirama’s outstretched hand. 

“Come.” Hashirama beckoned, a smile spreading over his lips. 

“Don’t let them fool you, brother.” Izuna wheezed, his gaze like steel as he stared at Hashirama with hatred. 

The words had done their damage and Madara retreated with his younger brother in tow. Hashirama turned a furious glance to Tobirama. He had been so close in having Madara change his mind, but with the combined efforts of Tobirama and Izuna, he was thwarted yet again. 

When the smoke cleared, Hashirama wanted to shout in anger, but instead, he turned to Tobirama and glared at his brother. This was different from the past glances he had given the man, it said so much than previous ones. He was disappointed that Tobirama couldn’t see past the prejudice that had clouded his eyes and mind for years. 

“Do you realize what you’ve done, Tobirama? You have thwarted any chance we had at peace! You disobeyed my orders on harming Izuna Uchiha! If he dies...” Hashirama threatened, his face screwed up in anger. 

“It’s best that I did! Izuna is a threat to us! You’re just so blind to it because you want to save Madara! It’s time you get your head out of your ass, brother!” Tobirama sneered, towering over Hashirama. His nose was brushing against Hashirama’s as they stared at one another. 

“I should want to save to him! We shared a dream once and you’re so blind because of your hatred that you can’t see that he wanted to change! You’re not helping, Tobirama! You’re banned from the field of battle!” Hashirama commanded, his dark eyes hard as he glared up at his brother. He didn’t say another as he turned away from Tobirama, praying that Izuna would live to preserve what was left of Madara’s sanity. 

~*~

The fighting had been intense, the land had been decimated as the others who had shared its fate. There were craters littering the surface and all vegetation had been killed. The battle this time had lasted quite some time, Madara had been beyond angry and hurt when Izuna passed away from complications from the wound Tobirama had inflicted on him. Rage had fueled Madara until he collapsed on the cracked ground. 

Hashirama hovered over him on his heels, watching Madara while Tobirama moved to stand over the Uchiha. His sword was placed against the pale neck, the sharp tip making a thin line trail to the ground. He watched as Madara cracked an eye open and turned it to Tobirama. 

“This is the end, Madara.” Tobirama said, no emotion seeped through as he stared down at his enemy. 

“Wait, Tobirama.” Hashirama said softly, knowing his brother would protest. 

“This is our chance!” Tobirama hissed, glaring at Hashirama. His hand never moved the sword as Madara turned his gaze to Hashirama as well. “Why?” 

“I won’t allow you to harm him.” Hashirama glared, turning furious brown eyes to his brother for even suggesting such a thing. He ignored his brother’s expression as he returned his attention back to Madara. 

“Make it quick, Hashirama. I’ll be satisfied if it’s you who ends my life.” Madara rasped, his breathing labored. 

“Nonsense. We both know if I do, the young Uchiha you hold dear will go on a rampage.” Hashirama responded with a soft expression. He had to resist the urge to brush the thick locks out of Madara’s face since they had company. 

“I highly doubt there’s anyone in the Uchiha who feels that way anymore.” Madara said, his chest heaving with some trouble. 

“I’m sure there is. Why don’t we settle this just how we use to, the two of us alone?” Hashirama asked, dismissing what Madara had said. He scooted closer with Tobirama hanging over his shoulder. 

“We can’t, I’m not the same as you anymore...I don’t have any siblings left, Hashirama. And I can’t trust you.” Madara was looking to the sky, watching the clouds roll over the blue. 

“Then how do I make you trust me?” Hashirama asked after he got over his shock. It was rare to speak to Madara like this as though the years hadn’t separated them. It was like they were back at the river again and they were still young and full of ideas to better their world. 

“If you want to straighten things out between us, Hashirama, then you must kill your brother or yourself. Only then will I trust you and your clan.” Even though his body was exhausted, Madara was able to watch Hashirama’s face. There wasn’t shock, only immediate acceptance of what he needed to do. Tobirama didn’t look as though the orders shocked him. 

Grim determination set in on Hashirama’s face as he stood. He turned to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. No matter their differences, Hashirama had valued Tobirama’s life above his own. He would not kill his brother, the pain of such an act would haunt him for the rest of his life. Tobirama was his only remaining blood and he would never take his life. Madara knew this fact well. 

“Tobirama, I will give him what he wants. But you are not to retaliate against Madara for this. My wishes will be followed to the letter, Tobirama. These are my last orders as the head of the Senju clan.” Hashirama was serious for once, there was no depression hanging over him as he gripped Tobirama’s shoulder tightly. 

“Don’t do this.” Tobirama said sternly, his own hand gripping the back of Hashirama’s neck. 

“For our future I must. If I don’t, this senseless fighting will continue until both clans are decimated. Now go, this is something I do not want you to see.” Removing his hand, Hashirama pushed Tobirama away, the rest of the clan had already dispersed, knowing that this was a private affair. 

Tobirama didn’t protest, not after seeing the look in his brother’s eyes. These were Hashirama’s wishes and it would be hard to carry them out since the man that had caused this situation. He would have to fight to restrain himself from killing Madara and ordering his kin to do the same. Without looking back, Tobirama vacated the area, leaving the two men alone on the cracked ground. Sitting down beside Madara, Hashirama gave a sigh before gazing up at the sky. 

“Create our village, Madara. Make sure it flourishes and that children don’t grow up in a bloody world. Make sure they get to enjoy life. This is goodbye and I wish things had been different.” Hashirama’s tone was peaceful, he had accepted his fate and knew this was the right thing to do. Tobirama would try his hardest to follow his orders and he knew Madara would be safe. That was all that mattered to Hashirama. 

Slipping a kunai from his pouch, Hashirama used it to allow his armor fall to the ground. A smile was on his lips as he looked down to Madara who was watching him intently. The thud of the red metal filled the air, the dirt rising and flowing with the wind. This was it for Hashirama, he was giving his life for future generations so that they could flourish and live. Children wouldn’t die at the tender of seven nor would they would know war. 

He turned the kunai on himself, the sharp edge of the metal weapon pointing to his stomach. Hashirama smiled fondly at Madara, the adoration for the other man evident in his dark brown eyes as he brought the kunai closer to his stomach. He didn’t see Madara move, having closed his eyes. 

A hand closed around his wrist, stopping the kunai from connecting with his stomach. Hashirama opened his eyes in surprise as he gazed at Madara. He stood only a few inches taller, giving him a slight advantage. Hashirama blinked in surprise, he hadn’t realized that Madara could still move. The hand holding his was trembling, making Hashirama drop the kunai. 

“Why would you do this, Hashirama?” Madara asked, his eyes searching the ones he had known since he was a boy. He had already known, he was an Uchiha after all and they weren’t known for being idiots. 

“You know why, Madara. For our dream.” Hashirama answered, avoiding contact and hiding the true reason. 

A pale hand cupped his tanne cheek, forcing him to gaze at Madara. There was an expression of tenderness he hadn’t seen there since he was a boy. He had to wonder if he wasn’t already dead with the way Madara looked at him. A thumb stroked his cheek gently, Madara leaning down so that their lips barely touch. 

“That’s not the truth, Hashirama, and you know it.” Madara’s eyes were easy to read, the emotion in them was something Uchiha did not speak of. 

“I love you, Madara. That’s the truth.” Hashirama’s own gaze didn’t waver from the one above him. He had been afraid to say the words to the Uchiha, knowing that hatred had set in after that disastrous day at the river. 

“You finally speak the truth.” Madara said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Hashirama’s lips. 

He fell forward into Madara’s arms, his head resting on a strong shoulder as his body shook. Tears of relief rolled down Hashirama’s face as his gripped Madara’s shirt tightly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this. It felt so surreal to be held by Madara on the battlefield, after they had fought so long and hard. 

“You were willing to sacrifice yourself and your resolved showed, Hashirama. I saw it in your eyes before you closed them and I knew then you were serious. We should go, leave this field behind us and retreat to my place for now. Let your brother wonder about us for a bit. I want you to myself.” Madara growled, pulling Hashirama’s face from his shoulder to gaze down in the brown eyes he had missed so much. 

In a flash they were gone from the site, Madara using a technique that was only known to Uchiha to moved great distances. No one outside of the clan knew the technique since one couldn’t learn it. It was another bloodline trait that couldn’t be imitated. It didn’t bother Hashirama that he had been whisked from the battlefield. Tobirama could worry for a bit about what had happened, while it wouldn’t loosen him up, it would at least, hopefully, teach him a lesson. 

As soon they were inside Madara’s home, Hashirama found himself pressed against the wall. His friend’s mouth was attached to his, plundering it as his hands rested on his slim hips. Hashirama had dreamed of this ever since he had hit puberty, but had coveted the dream since it seemed that it would never come true. Madara’s lips were desperate, as though Hashirama had endured a serious injury. 

“Madara...” Hashirama spoke against the other’s lips. He had never expected this and wonder how long this man had held feelings for him. They would make up for lost time, Hashirama had no doubt about that. This was how things should have been long ago, just them being together and basking in each other. 

“I should have listened to you all those years ago. I will make it up to you.” Madara said tenderly, this was a side Hashirama just knew he was the only to see. Izuna probably didn’t have this much access to Madara like he did. 

“You don’t have to do anything, Madara. Being here with you is enough.” Hashirama’s answer was typical, it was entirely him and Madara hadn’t expected any less. 

“We’ll talk later, right now I want you.” Madara said huskily, pulling Hashirama from the wall and leading him to the bedroom he occupied. 

Hashirama’s head was spinning, he still couldn’t believe that he was here with Madara. He was pushed to the bed, Madara’s long black hair creating a curtain around them, cocooning them from the world outside. Right now, the end of the war between their clans didn’t matter, as far as they were concerned it had never happened as well as their past. Hashirama waited with baited breath as Madara’s head descended, capturing his lips in a rough kiss. 

It wasn’t gentle, but that was to be expected from Madara, the man would never be gentle and that didn’t bother Hashirama. He would never change a thing about this man, he was perfect in his eyes. His hands moved on his own accord, cupping the pale face as Madara forced his lips open. Hashirama closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the way the invading tongue moved against his own had him moaning low in his throat. 

They were shinobi and as such, they had high passions. The life they led was a violent one and there was only one proven way to rid themselves of the endorphins that urged them to kill, sex. But this was different, Hashirama could tell by the way Madara removed his clothes. It was uncharacteristic of Madara, but this was a side no one else had seen and it was hard for Hashirama to get used to it. 

“What’s wrong, Hashirama? Not used to me being gentle?” Madara purred, pressing a kiss to his new lover’s chest, dark eyes flickering up to his face. 

“I’m used to you trying to kill me.” Hashirama’s breath hitched, his chest moving slightly with the sharp breath. Madara’s wicked tongue flickered over a nipple, hardening the nub to a point. His hands moved up and down Hashirama’s side, tickling the flesh and making it pimpled in his wake. 

“Hmm, you are right on that. But there has always been a fine line of hate and love between us. It’s been blurred on many occasions, Hashirama. There were times I wanted to bathe in your blood and the next fuck you until you couldn’t walk. There’s always been a connection between us, even I’m not afraid to admit that.” He nipped the nipple in his mouth between sharp teeth, looking up to Hashirama’s face. The way he looked now was committed to Madara’s memory by his Sharingan. Full lips were open in a soundless scream, dark eyes were hidden by closed lids. 

“Madara...stop teasing.” Hashirama rasped out, pressing his body against Madara’s to gain more friction. His erection was freed, Madara pulling his hakama down and letting the fabric slowly glide over his sensitive prick. Hashirama knew he was being teased, Madara would drag this out until he was begging. The style was similar to how they fought on the battlefield and he couldn’t help the snort that left his nose. 

“What’s so funny?” Madara asked as he threw the hakama to the floor. He slid up Hashirama’s body and gave him a deep kiss, easily controlling it. It left Hashirama breathless when he pulled away. 

“Just that this is close to how you fight.” Hashirama’s dark eyes were shining with amusement when Madara bit his neck, worrying the flesh between his teeth. He was marking Hashirama as his, the need filling his entire body. It didn’t matter if it would fade in a few days, he knew he had put it there. 

“Should have known you’d pick that up.” A long stroke was given to Hashirama’s cock, teasing the silky skin and making the organ twitch. The pads of Madara’s fingers trailed along the shaft all at once, making Hashirama’s hips shift for more contact. 

“I know you.” Hashirama whispered, propping himself up on his elbows to capture Madara’s lips in a kiss. It was heady, full of want and telling his lover that he was more than ready to take this to the next level. 

“Better than Izuna knew me,” Madara admitted against the soft lips. It was something he would never would have admitted to another person, Hashirama was the only exception. Madara’s connection with this man was deep rooted, stemming from when they children and nurtured by both love and hate. 

Quickly Hashirama undressed Madara, the need to feel his naked skin against his own driving him. The passion between them grew once Madara was naked. He pressed Hashirama down to the futon, his skin sliding against the tan flesh of his lover. Madra’s lips worshipped the skin that he could reach, nipping it as he grabbed the oil from the table next to his futon. He trailed his lips from Hashirama’s chest, down his stomach and to the cock that bobbed against his body. 

It was red, angry with desire and the need to release. Madara was well aware of how Hashirama’s body trembled with passion. The flush that spread over his body was a treat to Madara’s eyes and he was the only one who would ever enjoy it. No one would ever see Hashirama like this, he belonged to Madara now. Opening the small tube of oil, Madara spread it over his fingers. 

He leaned down to put his lips over the head of Hashirama’s cock, the salty taste of precum assaulting his tongue. The drenched fingers trailed to the opening that was hidden between Hashirama’s ass cheeks. He circled the pucker slowly, teasing it and enjoying the way it twitched against the pads of his fingers. Diving the first finger in, Madara moved it slowly. He wanted to make sure that Hashirama would feel as little pain as possible. It was a change from the bloodlust he felt when they had been engaged in battle. This feeling was better than any rush he had gotten from their fights. 

The way the tight heat contracted around his finger was divine, giving a hint of how it would feel around his cock. Adding another one, Madara sucked hard on the tip of Hashirama’s cock, distracting him from the fingers in his ass that stretched him open. Madara was nothing if methodical in what he did, making sure that Hashirama felt as little discomfort as possible. He could tell from the tense body that was a slight sense of uneasiness. 

Scissoring his fingers, Madara stretched the tight channel, adding another one after several long moments. Hashirama gave a small jerk at the intrusion, the discomfort a little much, but he never whimpered. Madara’s mouth started sucking again at his dick to distract him. Hashirama’s hands went to the long, dark hair. He tangled his fingers in the locks, digging deep into the tresses as his hips snapped up harshly. Madara had found something that made him gasp and writhed. And like the opportunist his friend was, he took advantage of that until Hashirama was nothing more than a pile of goo. 

Madara knew Hashirama was ready, the way his channel had loosened was enough for him to slide his cock in. Removing his fingers, Madara found the oil again and slicked his own cock up. He took his lover’s long legs and pulled them over his shoulders and lined his cock up with the stretched hole. Sliding in slowly, he gasped as he felt Hashirama’s walls squeeze around him. 

A shaky breath left both men’s mouths, adjusting to this new level of intimacy. It was a few more moments before Hashirama wriggled his hips, giving a silent communication that he was more than ready for his lover to move. Madara chuckled, the sound silk as it poured over Hashirama ears. He pulled out slowly and pushed back in at the same pace, teasing his lover with his cock. It took ironclad control for Madara not to pump his hips in and out, this was Hashirama’s first time and he would not ruin his lover. 

Slowly the passion built between them, sweat lining their skin as it glinted into the sunlight. There was no better sight than Hashirama under him with his tan flesh shimmering. Madara kissed the inside of Hashirama’s knee, the act intimate. He loved the taste of sweat on Hashirama’s flesh and how it trembled under his touch. The noises that Hashirama made were sweet music to Madara’s ears and making him lose his tight control. 

They filled the silence with heavy breaths and gasps. The sound of Madara’s balls slapping against Hashirama’s ass joined them to create a cacophony. The pleasure mounted, both men feeding the other’s desire. They both came at the same time. Madara pumping his hips a few times after he had emptied himself into Hashirama. He had allowed only a grunt to leave his lips while Hashirama had screamed his name for the whole Uchiha clan to hear. 

After releasing into Hashirama, Madara fell forward as strong arms caught him. His cock was still buried in his lover, spent and going limp as they lounged on the bed. Madara’s hand played with Hashirama’s hair, his breath ghosted over sensitive flesh. Hashirama made no move, instead he opted to lie on the futon and soak up the attention of his lover. The come on his stomach was drying, but that didn’t matter to him. Their future was set now, they would rush in a new era of peace and build their village together. A content smile passed over Hashirama’s lips at the thought of spending the rest of his life with Madara. 

“You’re thinking about something...” Madara accused as he propped his upper body up on his elbows. His dark eyes were accusatory as he glared at his lover. 

“Just our future together.” Hashirama said smugly, running a hand over Madara’s smooth cheek. “We’ll be building our village together.” 

“Of course, you and that damn village. We’ll build it, I can promise you that. But it’s only so I don’t have to hear you talk about it all day and day.” Madara said with a grumpy tone. He rolled his eyes when Hashirama rolled him over, his cock slipping out of his lover a little painfully, but he paid it no mind. This was what he was used to, what he had missed during their years apart, the simple teasing and insults thrown at each other. Madara would have to put up with Hashirama day and night, but there was no other he would rather have here with him. There was after all that old saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.


End file.
